Chapter Nineteen

The front lawn was filled with pyres when I woke up for the first jog I'd ever done.

Mitchell's words struck a chord with me. Though meant as a light-hearted rebuke, I'd heard him loud and clear. I needed to adapt, or I wouldn't survive.

There were different standards when it came to Sídhe and Wild Fae. Wild Fae fought to survive; they embodied their animal sides and lived by the hierarchy. Sídhe relied on their magic, and while I was at an advantage in the Human Realities, I was vastly outgunned in the Aos Sí.

If I continued as I was, I would die.

Either some hungry Durrach would kill me during one of the Huntsman's errands, or another wolf would take me out. Mitchell had been right. I had no stamina. No endurance. I could sit for hours with knitting needles in my hands or hunched over an embroidery loop, but those skills wouldn't help me survive.

The Huntsman was an ancient Fae. A blast from some untrained Weaver would not have put him down for long. As I stood on the lawn, stretching warily, the clockwork castle loomed over me—reminding me that it was only a matter of time before the Huntsman came for his pound of flesh.

The sun peeked over the treeline, signaling the arrival of the final day of Samhain.

A few more hours and I could go home. Back to my store on Palmer Street. Back to iced coffee and crochet projects and decorating for the holidays.

Though I didn't have anyone to buy Christmas presents for, now that Joel was gone and Melly was dead.

An eternity had passed in the Aos Sí, but the humans back in Locket had experienced a single night. They would wake up on the first of November to pack all their Halloween decorations away, and the world would keep turning.

I'd never got to finish my pumpkin-themed cardigan.

I had an ulterior motive for jogging along the treeline.

If Kaleb was right, and the Locket pack was using their final day in the Aos Sí to learn about the Black Widows, I wanted to go with them. I'd only been to Kaleb's room and had no idea where Dean and the others slept. I didn't want them to sneak past me to the market.

If they were going to find out about the Black Widows, I deserved to come with them. After all, it was my heritage. My magic. I was sick and tired of being left out because I wasn't a strong, worldly powerhouse.

The sun rose over the treeline, and my jogging had slowed to a wheezy stroll when the first few people came out of the kennels to study the pyres.

There was no sign of the Locket pack as wolves filled the lawn.

Eventually, I stopped running. A hot and sweaty mess. The shapeless linen clothes I'd been provided clung to my body as the frigid wind chilled my sweat against my skin.

I'd go to Kaleb's room, I decided. My subtle attempt to spy had failed, and I wasn't about to let them leave me behind.

With a goal in mind, I marched back to the kennels, weaving through the giant unlit bonfires and the excited chatter. I'd almost reached the door when a group stepped into my path. I excused myself and tried to go around, but they followed my movements, showing that their obstruction was on purpose.

I recognized the women only from their proximity to Wyatt whenever I'd seen him surrounded by his harem.

As a joke, he'd given them the names Tina, Gina, and Rina, but I could see why. They were wolves, sharing the same orange-tinted eyes as many of the Wolfkin, but their features were so similar that they had to be related somehow.

"You're Mallory, right?" One of the women said, her hair tied back in a high ponytail. "Wyatt told us to look out for you. He won't be back until the celebration later."

I cursed under my breath. "He left already?"

Ponytail pressed her lips into a thin line and shrugged. "I am Teagan." She waved her hand toward the other wolves. "That's Tara and Tabitha."

"We grew up with Wyatt." Tara looked down her nose at me. "But I'm very interested in knowing why a wolf, such as yourself, can't protect herself?"

I grimaced.

Tabitha leaned forward before I could answer, rocking on her heels, her hands knitted together. "Why would Wyatt want to protect you anyway?"

"She's a Weaver." Teagan pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated.

I pressed my lips together, glancing at the tree line. "When did they leave?"

"Ages ago." Tabitha's eyes glittered with mischief.

I winced, rubbing my hands over my sodden clothes. "But they said they'd be back?"

"Hmm." Tara bit back a smirk.

I gestured to the pyres. "Are we having a bonfire?"

Teagan smiled. "It's the final day of Samhain. We'll light the fires to usher the spirits to the Tuatha Dé Danann, and then we get to go home."

"Home?" I wondered.

"Our pack resides in the Night Court, in the forest of Everfall," Teagan explained. "We will return once we have served the Huntsman for this year."

"And the celebrations?" I watched as a group of wolves began to bring barrels of beer and casks of wine, setting them down on the lawn. "The Huntsman just lets you throw a massive party?"

Tabitha shrugged. "The real fun begins in a minute."

"Real fun?" I echoed, glancing at the clockwork castle. My stomach sank.

Tara looped her arm through mine and began moving before my thoughts caught up.

I tried to pry myself free, but Tara was surprisingly strong. "I need to shower." I protested.

"We're going to the Gate," Tabitha said in a sing-song voice. "One final Hunt before Samhain is over. Then we celebrate."

"What about them?" I gestured to the wolves setting up for the party.

Teagan barked a laugh. "You're not nervous, are you?"

I couldn't lie, so I returned her question with a question of my own. "Nervous? What would I be nervous about?"

The female wolves kept moving towards the forest. I tried to stop walking, but they carried on. Tara's grip on my elbow tightened, and I tried to wrench free but couldn't break her hold.

"Hey!" I barked as my adrenaline spiked, and a sinking feeling settled in my bones. "Let go of me!"

I twisted at the waist, searching for help from the bystanders, but no one looked up. No one cared as I was carried away.

I grabbed the hand on my elbow, digging my fingernails into the skin. Tara cursed but held tight, and the three wolves walked faster. I stopped walking, digging my heels in; the shadows swallowed us as we approached the trees. My screaming protests echoed through the forest.

The Dullahan emerged from behind the trees, his horse blending with the shadows. The rider wore dark armor the color of dried blood. His hands gripped the reigns of his horse, and though the Dullahan didn't have a head, I sensed his gaze.

"We didn't lie when we said this was a hunt." Tabitha cooed in her sing-song voice. "But you're the prey!"

I tried reaching for the magic threads surrounding us, but they weren't there. Something was blocking me. My vision swam, my stomach twisted, and bile coated my throat. My scant ability to defend myself was gone .

Tara, whose grip on my arm hadn't waived, dug her nails into my skin. "Iron powder." She declared. "Courtesy of the Huntsman."

"Wyatt is going to be so pissed off when he finds out about this." It stretched the truth, and my tongue locked around the words, but I didn't care. "What will you do then? Huh?"

Teagan rolled her eyes, flicking her ponytail. "Huntsman's orders." She declared. "But we asked to have a little fun with you first."

"Why?" My brow creased. "I haven't done anything to you."

"Wolves don't like weakness." Teagan shrugged.

Tabitha leaned forward, inhaling the air dramatically. She licked her lips. "And you reek of it."

The Dullahan shifted, gesturing something I couldn't understand.

Teagan waved him off. "Did you bring the collar?"

My muscles locked briefly, and my heart pounded in my ears.

A collar. Around my throat.

I felt phantom hands squeeze my neck, and breathing grew difficult. Short, shallow puffs that did nothing to fill my lungs. I had to escape. I didn't care if I was poisoned with iron.

I'd rather die than let anyone collar me.

I felt the heavy weight of my grandmother's coin in my pocket, though I had no idea what it meant.

I couldn't break Tara's grip. I'd tried. I couldn't reach my Weaver magic. The iron made my head swim and my stomach sour.

There was one thing left.

A lever inside of me that I never pulled. That I buried deep down and hoped would go away.

The wolf.

I pulled my Wolfkin magic over me, like turning a sweater inside out, allowing the golden threads to turn my body from two-legged to four.

Tara must not have been expecting me to shift because she let go.

I didn't hesitate as I raced away as far as my four legs would carry me.

I recognized the scent in the air.

Dean. Kaleb. Mitchell and Wyatt.

I didn't know how I knew, but the moment I smelled the combination of four scents, I knew they'd come this way.

Usually, I saw the magic in the air as snipped threads that floated about, drifting on air currents, but my eyes burned, and my head swam. My vision was compromised, with large blurry patches that made it hard to see.

The iron powder had sunk into my skin when I'd changed shapes. Dizziness made it hard to stick to a path, and my fur tangled in brambles as I ran.

I started seeing things.

A cacophony of wolf howls echoed behind me as the female pack followed on my heels.

The bone-deep exhaustion from my run slowed my movements. My muscles burned with every step, making it hard to see.

My tongue lulled out of my mouth, and my breath wheezed through my canine mouth as I panted for air.

Finally, my legs gave up, folding under me when I broke through the trees. I'd followed the magic and the scents I could identify, but they were old, and I felt the forest watching me and waiting for its moment.

I tried to stand, but my limbs shook, and refused to obey. I lifted my head, blinking through exhaustion, confused by the sight before me.

The air shimmered, jagged edges of ether fluttered in the wind like fabric that didn't quite exist.

Through the slice in reality, I saw the trees I'd grown up with. Nothing like the gnarled strangeness of the Aos Si.

The fragrant scent of a linden tree drifted to my nose, reminding me of home.

The Gate.

I could jump through.

I could go home.

But what about the Locket pack? The Huntsman—Lugh—would punish them. Hurt them. Maybe even kill them.

A small grey wolf broke through the trees, her head lowered and her eyes fixed on mine. A predator hunting their prey.

I recognized the glint in her eyes. The childlike maliciousness that unnerved me—Tabitha.

Tabitha didn't seem to care that her opponent was exhausted, tongue lulling out and eyes half closed.

She stalked toward me, her lips curled back over her teeth. I realized she was smiling.

I couldn't weave without my hands.

I could barely stand.

Tabitha advanced, drooling fur onto the fluffy coat on her chest, salivating at the chance to take her pound of flesh.

I didn't know how she could stand it as she strode past the Gate, affected by the discordant chiming of the tear between worlds.

I didn't have the energy to shift. I wasn't even sure if I could.

She was going to kill me.

Red mist saturated my vision, and I struggled to stand. Pinpricks of pain coated every inch of my body. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and fall asleep, but I couldn't.

I wasn't sure if I would wake up.

One chance.

I didn't have the advantage of skill or experience. My magic was useless in wolf form.

But Tabitha couldn't see the Gate.

Either that or she was so fixated on me that she ignored it altogether.

I wasn't sure if I was heavier, but I had the element of surprise.

Tabitha chuffed a laugh, sitting back on her haunches as she watched me stand on shaky legs.

One burst of energy.

One final hurrah.

I wasn't going to let that psycho bitch kill me.

Head down, teeth locked, I rammed her. Throwing my weight against her wolf, my forehead at her belly, as I pushed her back.

Tabitha had let me get close. My vision turned white as she bit my shoulder, fastened onto the fur there, and refusing to let go.

I didn't care about getting hurt. I was going to push her through the Gate.

Grandmother Eva had always said going between worlds was a different kind of pain. Like being torn apart and put back together again.

Inch by inch, I pushed the wolf into the Gate. She refused to let go of my shoulder, and blood dripped onto the bracken. The fluttering edges of reality grasped the air, hungry, the translucent tendrils fastening on the wolf as if to do my bidding.

She took a chunk from my shoulder, her teeth still locked on my skin as the Gate sucked her in like a toddler slurping spaghetti.

One second, she was there, and the next, she was gone.

I heard Tabitha's scream join the discordant harmony of the Gate.

My legs collapsed under me.

I saw the trees on the other side of the Gate. Minutes passed before Tabitha was spat out the other end, though she was no longer recognizable.

She had grown five times in size. Each of her teeth was longer than my forearms. Her eyes glowed red. She was pitch black, her claws longer, and her shape no longer resembling anything that could be considered a wolf.

She was a monster.

A Durrach.

Did the Gate turn people into durrach ? Did the Huntsman know? Did the Locket pack know?

The beast that was once Tabitha reared back and let out an almighty roar, trundling away from the Gate—just as my legs collapsed and darkness closed in.

He found me in the clearing, my nose inches from the Gate as I slept.

Though unaware of the shift, I'd changed from wolf to human form. The eerie chiming of the Gate made my head pound, and I felt like I'd drunk too much Jack Daniels.

The Huntsman knelt by my side; his goat-like eyes held no emotion. He glanced at the Gate and sighed. The sun had risen. Samhain was over, and I remained in the Aos Si.

"You're not going to let me go. Are you?" My voice scratched its way out of my throat.

"I've been distracted by Samhain, but I promise you have my full attention now, Weaver." His lip quirked with a smile. "I haven't forgiven you for striking me. Not yet."

The Huntsman—Lugh—was my great-grandfather.

He made my skin crawl.

"Will you hurt Kaleb? And the Locket pack? If I say no?" I closed my eyes, shivering against the damp undergrowth. My shoulder was shredded, leaking blood. Cream-colored bone peeked through the globs of yellow face, sinew, and torn skin.

It hurt so much.

Lugh let out a dark laugh.

"They've gone home, Weaver. Samhain is over. The festivities are done. My wolves have returned to their freedom, if only until the next Samhain." Lugh reached out, pressing his hand against the bloody wound. He brought his fingers to his face and smelled my blood, rubbing it between his fingertips. "If only your mates were here, then they could heal you. Unfortunately, you will be scarred. If infection doesn't kill you."

"They're gone?" I stuttered. Mates?

"They have done what they needed to do here." He told me. "I'm surprised you regard Kaleb Morrow so highly. He killed your spouse."

My throat sucked closed, and I couldn't speak as the Huntsman's lips split his face in two. His teeth were serrated and pointed at the ends.

"Kaleb killed Joel?" I croaked, unable to think straight.

The Huntsman laughed, waving away my distress. "Don't worry about that." He assured me. "We're just getting started."

The story continues in…

The Wolf You Feed

The second book in the TEETH trilogy

Mallory Hunt is trapped in the Aos Sí with Lugh, a mad God determined to torture her for her grandmother's crimes.

When her second Samhain approaches and the durrach in the forest begin to multiply, Mallory hopes her mates will rescue her.

Meanwhile, in the Human Realities, the Locket pack is fighting a war of their own against a local hate group—while the Huntsman's missions grow more and more absurd.

But Mallory has changed. A year under Lugh's control has shown her things about herself she never hoped to know. Can her mates bring her back from the edge?

If they can remember who she is.

Can Mallory break the Huntsman's curse once and for all?

Will the Locket pack survive?

***THE WOLF YOU FEED is the second book in the TEETH trilogy. It is a slow-burn paranormal werewolf/fae romance. Contains scenes of MFMMM, MMF, MM, MFM, violence, and DV***